


Stranded

by 3HKate



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: Desert Island Fic, Drama & Romance, F/M, Season 9 AU, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3HKate/pseuds/3HKate
Summary: Weren't they always meant to fall in love, despite all circumstances?





	1. Prologue: Gwen

**Author's Note:**

> A hint of something to come.
> 
> Beautifully inspired by itsme_JP's "Castaway".

 

*

 

Flat on her back, Gwen comes to her senses.

Her brain takes a few minutes to realize she's looking upwards, darkness looming above.

Wet sand molds the ground beneath her body.

It crumbles away once she puts weight on her arms and pushes herself to sit.

The same sand coats her blonde hair, hanging to the side of her face in dirty matted strands.

She is chilled to the bone, soaked through every inch.

Itching and rubbing, her clothes cling unbearably to her skin.

She coughs. First once, then uncontrollably. A dry, bitter aftertaste of salt and something else stuck in the back of her throat.

Split-second images, sharp as lightening flashes, cut through her fogged up memory. Her heart pounds.

She looks around.

Only sand and the sea.

Hints of a beginning sunrise on the horizon.

Behind her, unknown shapes of jungle growth in washed out grey.

With more light, the outline of a beat up boat carried up and down by the sea, only caught in a jagged formation of rocks stretching out of endless blue where the beach ends.

None of it seemed real.

She didn't know where she was.

She could barely recall what had happened.

But she knew she wasn't supposed to be alone.

_Don't panic._

A sudden voice in her head.

_You can't panic._

Her real voice she barely recognizes.

"Blake!"

She calls out for him with a croaky, almost chattering tone. Quickly at first, afraid to put weight behind it.

Then with everything she has.

"BLAKE!"

"BLA - HAKE!"

"BLAKE!!"

Desperation drives blinding tears to her eyes.

There was no response.

She pushes forward on her hands and knees to get up, then wrangles the clips to release a bright yellow floating device still strapped to her chest.

More coughing, raw and salty. Lungs not trusting her body to deliver oxygen.

Her head pounds stronger the minute she attempts to stand.

She stumbles along the shore.

Afraid to really look.

Unthinkable what, or whom, she might find.

She doesn't get far before dizziness forces her back to her knees.

Then blackness returns.

 

*

 

 

 


	2. Prologue: Before

 

***  
Weeks before  
***

It had been so easy for Gwen to love the studio's idea: They were going to be filming promotional material for The Voice Season 9 on Kaua'i, Hawaii's northernmost island.

Plans were to fly out for a week with the production crew, camera teams and all coaches. She would get to enjoy the sun and an endless blue sky, working with people who would make the days' tight schedules feel anything but before they would get to relax by the side of never ending waves at night, with delicious seafood and fruity cocktails.

Gwen had been a beach girl all her life, having never really known much else since her family had always lived so close to the sea.

Even if it was for work, the objective to reinterpret scenes from "Gilligan's Island" with the upcoming season's coaches starring as themselves, she might have a true chance to unwind and clear her head while her sons would be with their father on an extended visit to England.

Months before, she couldn't have been more excited to have been offered a chance to return to the show, no matter what had been going on in her private life at the time.

She had already had so much fun on Season 7. She had been greeted by Adam and Pharell with open arms back then, reveling in the opportunity to actually spend working hours with them after having Apollo.

It was only Blake Shelton, the country music coach, who she hadn't known before. He welcomed her just as kindly as her friends, and introduced her to their world of TV, which became her new, longed for source of musical inspiration. He, too, had made a lasting impression on her; his tall, steady presence and fun-loving exterior more often than not appearing to be an outer extension to his privately humble and caring nature.

When she had accepted her spot on the new season and came to the studio for the very first production meeting, Blake had sat there with red rimmed eyes and a good fifteen pound less on his frame.

He had tried to remain oblivious to any concerned looks until everybody had settled in, but he asked to begin with private news that might affect the show. Gwen was glad she had still been hiding behind her sunglasses when his story spilled out in the open.

He was getting divorced. His high-profile, seemingly fairy tale country music marriage ending like a bad dream. He hadn't shared details, but his words, painful and broken, elicited more secret tears from Gwen. She was surprised she still had any left to shed at that point.

The meeting had ended and Gwen had followed a gut feeling by asking Blake to talk in private. She had pulled him into an empty room after he had given her a tired look but hadn't protested.

She had managed to tell him about Gavin then. Not about the crude, horrifying, numbing details that had pulled the earth from underneath her feet, but of the results, her voice shaking with every other word and her need to keep calm.

She, too, would be filing for divorce within weeks.

The look Blake had given her after too long a moment of heavy silence was not one she ever would have expected.

Kind understanding blue eyes suddenly pierced her heart. He was sorry she had to go through that, he had said. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

They had talked a little more then, in some way freed by the unique circumstances of meeting someone who seemed to know exactly what they were going through.

When Gwen had to leave, Blake had torn some piece of paper from inside his wallet and neatly put down his email address before handing it to her.

Stay in touch, he had asked quietly, searching her eyes for reassurance that he might have found an ally in the place he would have least expected.

She had only nodded, thankful for one minuscule positive thing to have happened that day.

Gwen had emailed him three days later, almost stupidly afraid he had changed is mind, and, understandably, wouldn't possibly want to know about someone else's drama.

Blake had surprised her though. He had written back that same night, offering support for what she had mentioned before sharing his own status quo.

Gwen had emailed back the next morning and so had Blake again that same night. By the following weekend they had exchanged phone numbers.

Out of pure desperation, she had called him two nights later when Gavin had threatened to challenge all previous custody agreements.

He had listened until she began to calm down, and listened some more until she was ready to face the next day.

Thus began the weaving of fine strands of support and honesty in which they were able to put into words what they wouldn't share with anyone on the outside.

Once the real prep-work for season 9 began, they had already found solace in each other's company, drawn together without pretext.

 

***  
24 hours before  
***

Filming on Kaua'i's beaches had been going smoothly with evenings being as lovely as Gwen had hoped for.

For the last day's plans, the crew had paired up coaches on identical boats, each with their own camera teams to parallel shoot individual scenes. Adam and Alicia had been directed to one vessel, while she and Blake boarded the other.

Her new friend, quite obviously, had loved being on the boat; a sparkling white, 26 feet long beauty, equipped for both manual sailing and easy cruising, its 500l capacity diesel engine powerfully guiding the team to their shooting spots.

Blake seemed to know his way around, pointing out small details when Gwen hadn't been giggling or going over lines with him in between takes.

With the crew around, it almost seemed like he had been trying to keep her laughing about any silly little thing, as if he had been worried about the drawn lines around her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well. But then, neither had he from what she knew. The change of scenery did both of them good.

They had wrapped up filming an hour earlier than planned.

Blake had seemed relaxed, clearly content in their surroundings. When Gwen had voiced her observation, his eyes sparked up in line with his dimples. Both a rare appearance of late, yet still familiar to Gwen. Somehow, they would always manage to laugh about something, even on the worst of days.

Blake was genuine and not afraid to let her in on his emotions, so very different from what she had been accustomed to. He truly did enjoy being out there.

With the crew happy to set their feet back on land, Blake had asked if she would enjoy going out for another slow spin, just the two of them. They wouldn't be expected back for dinner for quite some time.

Gwen could vividly recall the day's heat lessening in favor of a cooling breeze.

She had said yes.

Blake had offered to hand over the helm to her. But all she wanted was to keep floating and to see him smiling, if only for another hour.

*

No one had paid attention to the clouds.

Not the crew waving them off.

Nor the harbor hands assisting with their departure.

After all, these clouds had been forming every night as increased winds kept building bigger waves.

Their growing and breaking kept fascinating Gwen as she watched, nowhere near strong enough to make her sea sick. She only put on her sweater for another layer, hair blowing freely.

Only this night, when the beginning of a real storm emerged, the sky a sudden muddy orange, looming grey not far behind, some small part in their boat's steering system below deck gave up its hold, blocking the propeller, rendering navigation impossible.

They began to drift fast, the vessel pulled farther and farther from the shoreline.

Blake didn't panic, so neither did she.

But he did secure a life jacket over her head, reassuring her with gentle yet insistent instructions.

He deflected when she asked why he wasn't wearing his.

Looking back, there shouldn't have been only one.

*

When the storm truly hit, they got into trouble fast.

Their radio gave out, the metallic box refusing to respond to Blake's focused attempts of communication.

A sick feeling began to spread through Gwen. Newly violent waves no longer the only reason she felt nauseous.

She remembered, the sun was just about to set.

She had to hold on to something.

Blake had wanted her to go below deck, to stay safe down there.

She wouldn't go though.

*

Later, she must have hit her head.

She had lost time.

Gwen didn't know how much. Only that she awoke to deafening thunder accompanied by pelting rain, so blinding she almost couldn't make out Blake, fiercely jumping from port to starboard, working tirelessly to secure the boat's balance in midst crashing water threatening to flood them.

She remembered that he had cowered next to her then. A tight hold on her and the railing.

She could barely understand what he tried to yell against the howling winds.

In pitch black darkness, they were thrown around on an erratic seesaw ride.

Both of them freezing, completely drenched.

*

She must have lost more time until the next event seared into her memory.

A sudden, jarring impact, so enormously strong it catapulted Gwen down to the floor, across the deck.

In her previous place, a broken up hull, splintered wood protruding everywhere.

For a few seconds, she had lost her ability to breathe.

Then Blake had found her again, steadying her, holding her hand.

"We hit something," he had yelled, thinking of rocks, or cliffs. Massive enough to destroy the moaning boat with minimal effort.

This time she had heard him.

"It's gonna happen again. We need to get off!"

His hand on hers in a death grip as he pulls her to the stern.

"Jump with me, Gwen!" He yelled.

She didn't have time to think.

"Come on!"

"NOW!"

"GWEN!"

"JUMP NOW!"

*

Her body submerged instantly.

She inhaled icy sea water, struggling far to long to find a way upwards.

She had lost Blake's hand.

Air, her lungs were screaming.

She desperately needed air.

Frozen.

Sinking down.

Wordless images of her boys abruptly flashing in front of her eyes.

_NO!_

_God, help me?!_

_Please..._

Finally, Gwen swam for her life, pushing through roaring, screeching winds, fighting the sea's dark abyss with everything she had.

 

 


End file.
